


The Perils of Being Alone

by ignitesthestars



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, F/M, First Time, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-20
Updated: 2013-01-20
Packaged: 2017-11-26 06:21:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/647512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ignitesthestars/pseuds/ignitesthestars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in some indeterminable post-Heroes of Olympus time. Annabeth and Percy realise that, for the first time in a very long time, they're actually alone. With no chance of being interrupted. Banging ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Perils of Being Alone

Annabeth smells really good.

Actually, she smells a little like Percy. Kind of as though the last shower they had involved being dunked in sea water after stopping the end of the world once again. But she’s _Annabeth_ and she’s in his arms and her hands are in his hair, mouths practically crashing into each other over and over because they’re alive and they’re _alone_. Two things that Percy had though were impossible until now.

 She presses closer to him, almost like she’s trying to crawl inside him, except not weird. Percy’s ADHD brain is about to run away with that thought when his girlfriend makes a sort of whimpering sound. Anything not-Annabeth becomes more than unimportant right now, it becomes insignificant.

 He breaks the kiss – kisses? – pressing his forehead to hers and just holding her. Their breath mingles together and they just look at each other, grounding themselves.

 Finally, Annabeth pulls back a little. She licks her lips, brushing his hair back off his face. “We’re alone.”

 Something in her voice sends a shiver down his spine. “Uh, yeah.” They’re in his cabin. “Tyson’s staring at Dad’s, and—”

 “Percy.” She’s rolling those glorious grey eyes at him. He’d feel like an idiot, but a hand leaves his hair and then he’s gasping, pressing his face into her shoulder as his hips jerk forward into the clever hand wrapped around his dick. “We’re _alone_.”

 Slowly, it dawns on him exactly what she means. In his defence, her hand is driving him sort of insane. But there’s no more running off to save the world. No more bickering friends. No more _Coach Hedge_. They were alone-alone, without the threat of interruption, for the first time in like…ever.

 Annabeth is staring at him expectantly, fingers drawing up to his hop, nails scratching lightly over the skin, under his Camp Half-Blood shirt. Percy experiences a brief moment of sheer terror before his hands move of their own accord, tugging her flush against him once again. Her smirk of satisfaction is delicious against his lips; this is the one area where it  doesn’t grate on him. Maybe because when his hands are on her like this, he _wants_ to satisfy her.

 Well. Theoretically. This is sort of the first time they’ve had the chance to—

 “ _Percy_.” Annabeth pants into her mouth. His knee is between her thighs and he can feel her grinding down against him lightly, teasing. Herself or him, he’s not sure. “Stop thinking.” Her hands are halfway up the back of his shirt and here he thought he’d been doing a good job of that already.

 “I’m sorry, was that you telling me to _stop_ thinking for o – ow!”

 She’d kicked him in the shin. So much for romance.

 “If you’re nervous, we don’t have to do this,” she informs him, removing her hands and taking a shaky step back. She looks beautiful, lips red, curls dishevelled. But why is she so far away? It takes Percy a couple of moments to process what’s happening. His blood is all in his other head.

 “Annabeth.” Or maybe not. He can hear it roaring in his ears. “I definitely, definitely want to do this.” And he does. He has for a long time, wants to be closer to her than anything else, wants to make her feel good, wants to _share_ this with the most important person in his life. “But, I mean – you’re not even a little bit nervous?” That surge of terror wasn’t a one off. Percy is scared out of his mind. Annabeth is way too important for him to blunder through this like he does everything else.

 Underneath her tan, Annabeth blushes. A beat passes before she looks at him through her lashes, almost shyly. If that word could ever be applied to her. “I’m terrified.”

 “Okay.” A smile breaks across his face despite the situation. “Okay, good. Uh, me too, I mean. Not good that you’re terrified, that’s not good, but – at least we’re scared together, right? I think that’s normal.” _Percy, shut up._

 She’s staring at him like he’s an alien, and for a moment he’s totally certain that he’s screwed this up, that chocolates and roses and blueprints of rare architectural monuments are going to be on the menu for the next few weeks. And then she snorts. “We’ve been through _Tartarus_ together, and this is what gets us? Sex?” She dissolves into laughter.

 When you put it that way, it’s totally ridiculous. Percy only stops laughing himself when his girlfriend grabs his hand, tugging him towards her. Grey eyes sparkle, and he’s reminded once again of just how much he loves this girl. Smart and beautiful and stubborn beyond all belief.

 She lets go of him, cups his face, thumbs sliding across his cheekbones, down his jaw, over his lips. There’s a look on her face that says she’s thinking something similar – probably not the smart thing, but definitely the stubborn. And definitely the love.

 Something comes over Percy then, and like he so often does, he just goes with it. He bends, scooping her up into his arms bridal style. She shrieks, starts laughing again and loops her arms around his neck as he walks them towards his bed.

 And maybe he should lay her down all romantically, but class and sweetness isn’t really them. He drops her on the mattress, earning himself a growl and a fist in his shirt that almost has him toppling down after her. He flails around a bit, manages to avoid crushing her, and ends up balancing his weight on his elbows with their legs pressed together.

 Percy’s about to say something, he’s not sure what, but Annabeth is smirking again and a slow roll of her hips not two seconds later explains why. Percy groans, rocking back; he’s still hard and this only makes it worse, makes him need her more. He drops his head, lips finding that one spot on the side of her next that he knows drives her crazy.

 “Not – _ah_ – not fair,” she pants, squirming underneath him as his teeth scrape over sensitive skin.

 “Geez, Annabeth,” he gasps, because when gravity is pressing them together like this, the way she jerks around is enough to drive him insane. “And that was totally fair.”

 She doesn’t respond, at least not verbally. At this point his girlfriend has completely lost patience with his shirt, and when he thinks back on it later he’s never sure how she manages to get it off so fast without ripping it. Percy doesn’t often think about his physical appearance, but the look in Annabeth’s eyes as she drinks in the sight of him is almost enough to make him blush. Apparently he’s doing something right, because her hips roll up again, hands moving nearly feverishly over his skin.

 Electricity sparks through him. Usually that’s a bad thing in Percy’s life, but right now nothing has ever felt better. Annabeth gasps, arching up underneath him as he bites that spot on her neck, nibbling down to her clavicle. Her Camp shirt gets in the way then and he makes a frustrated sound in the back of his throat, one hand working up under the lower hem. His fingers feel sort of thick and clumsy, but Annabeth doesn’t seem to mind as they work over the flat plane of her stomach, tracing meaningless patterns and maybe the words _I love you_ (or maybe _I ovel oyu_ ).

 He thinks he’s being subtle with that one, what with the dyslexia. But her hands loop around his neck again and drag his mouth up to hers for a kiss that almost makes the remaining arm holding him up buckle. “I love you too, Seaweed Brain.”

 Her hands are moving again, shoving at his shoulders to push him back, away from her. He’s reluctant, but she’s insistent, and once he sees what she’s about he’s more than happy to sit back. His knees rest on either side of her hips as she reaches for the edge of her shirt, lifting it slowly over the top of her head. Percy’s eyes are riveted to her, to each sliver of skin that’s revealed to him. And then her bra is blue, whether through accident or design, and he can feel his lips twitching up.

 “What?” The shirt is tossed off somewhere for Tyson to clean up when he gets back. Annabeth sees the look on Percy’s face and glances down, like she’s expecting to find a smear of food between her breasts or something else moderately embarrassing, but ultimately not important.

 Percy pushes her slowly back down onto the bed. He doesn’t actually touch her, just prowls forward; there’s something about the way he moves that has Annabeth’s eyes widen, lowering herself by inches until she’s on her back again. This time Percy leaves his hands out of it, using his tongue to draw lines and swirls and dots over her stomach, moving up from her hips to her breastbone. Probably he should have asked her to take the bra off first, but this is okay, he can work with this. Her hands tangle in his hair, clenching every time he does something she particularly likes. He mouths a nipple through the thin material, and she just about rips a handful out.

 “Ow – _ow_.” He laughs through her apology, grinning down at her. “I guess it’s time to take this off?”

 He just about gets elbowed in the face for that one. But she reaches behind her, slapping away any attempts his hands make at doing it for her.

 “I don’t want to be here forever,” she explains. Her pupils are dilated with pleasure, and she’s still making fun of him. Percy is about to say something about how his life is hard, but then her bra disappears over the side of the mattress and his attention is consumed by some other hard thing, and the sight of his girlfriend topless in his bed.

 She’s half shy, half defiant, and all Annabeth. It’s sexy as hell, and there’s no way Percy can deny her anything. Her hands return to his back, nails dragging lightly across his skin, and then not-quite-so-lightly as his mouth returns to her nipple. It feels good, the way she does it, but clearly not as good as what she’s experiencing right now. Her back arches again and he shifts his mouth over to the other nipple, taking over the first with thumb and forefinger.

 Her hips undulate against his now, no gaps or hesitation in the movement. There are so many ways to make her feels good that for a moment Percy forgets exactly what he’s doing, forehead pressed to her chest. Her nails dig in hard enough to make him yelp and he jerks his head up, making a face at her.

 “ _Move_ ,” she demands, although her hands pat the place she scratched, like that’s some sort of consolation for just about having his skin ripped out.

 He eyes her, taking his weight back onto his arms and moving one knee so it’s positioned between her thighs, almost but not quite touching her core. “Sorry, what did you say?”

 Her nails dig in again, although gentler this time, enough to feel good as she attempts to use him as leverage to drag herself down. He moves with her, refusing to give her relief.

 “Percy!”

 “Hey, you said move.” He grins at her before slowly easing his lips over hers. But Annabeth is having none of this slow business, her teeth tugging at his lower lip and kissing him harder, deeper. It turns out that Percy is okay with this, and he’s especially okay with the moan of triumph that sounds against his mouth as she succeeds in grinding herself against his knee.

 “You’re such a – _hngh_ – you’re such a jerk,” she gasps out, and this time it’s her lips that move, over his face, along the line of his jaw to his ear and he stills completely when her mouth closes over the lobe, teasing.

 He wants to reply back in kind, some sort of bad joke or clever comment, but her lips and tongue and teeth on the one spot prove almost too much. Heat sears through him but it feels like his bones are turning to water, something that probably doesn’t make much sense but it feels so good that Percy’s okay with that.

 He wants to make her feel this good. That’s the only thought left in his mind as his fingers fumble with the button of her tiny, tiny shorts. Her hands leave his back because Annabeth is nothing if not helpful, and it’s only seconds later that she’s kicking the material off her long, long legs.

 Percy has to pull back and look at her. He can’t help himself, and Annabeth seems to be aware of that. At least, she doesn’t stop him, eyes tracking his face as his track her entire body, taking in the side of her spread out and flushed on his bed, a pair of blue underwear that matches her long-lost bra the only thing covering her.

 “Do I meet with your approval?” she asks tartly, but her face is flushed from something other than exertion and desire. She’s a little bit embarrassed, and Percy hastens to reassure her, brushing his lips against the side of her neck, up to her neck.

 “Always,” he insists, and then his fingers are moving, tracing her core through the thin material of her underwear. He can feel how wet she is even now, as she shudders against him and buries her face in the space where his neck meets his shoulder. He teases her a little, but Percy doesn’t have the patience to avoid skin on skin contact for long. His hand drags up, works under the elastic of her underwear and then his fingers are sliding along her slit, accompanied by a low cry gasped into his skin from Annabeth.

It’s not the first time he’s touched her like this, but it’s always been sort of the goal before. It’s a step along the way now, and that somehow serves to make the whole experience that much for intense. His fingers circle her clit in the way he knows she likes (because she’d moved his hand and demonstrated, once), his other hand buried in her hair as his elbow awkwardly tries to stop crushing her. A couple of times his fingers dip lower, teasing her entrance, and her whole body jerks under his, legs trembling.

Finally, she can’t take it anymore, lifting her head and kissing him demandingly. “Percy,” she gasps. “Percy, I swear to the g—”

It’s totally instinctual, a movement that he can’t help. His hand flies up from her slit to cover her mouth, stopping what she’s about to say. Grey eyes flash above his fingers (still wet from her), and he figures he has about three seconds to explain before she throws him off the bed.

“I—” Two seconds. “Let’s just – let’s leave them out of this, okay?” He sounds sheepish – he _is_ sheepish – but he’s pretty sure that Aphrodite at least is already watching this, and he really doesn’t want to add to the audience. This is something between him and Annabeth, something special and _private_. It doesn’t need to become a family affair.

The third second ticks by without comment from his girlfriend, but then those eyes of hers soften, a sigh escaping from behind his fingers. “You’re an idiot, Percy Jackson,” she declares, and he’s on the verge of protesting or agreeing, or maybe both, when her lips close over his fingers.

Fingers that had just been practically inside her. Percy moans, hips jerking down against her leg as she sucks the taste of herself off him. Somehow she still manages that smirk around them, and he’s pretty sure that if he doesn’t have her right then and there, he’s going to explode both figuratively and literally and embarrass himself.

She can tell. Of course she can, there’s no one in the world who knows him better than Annabeth. “Now,” she demands, moving her head away from his hand. Her fingers are already working at his shorts, and he’s like, ninety-nine percent sure that she’s letting them brush over his dick on purpose. She rids him of his underwear at the same time as his pants, and he’s so caught up in trying to figure out how the hell she managed it that he almost misses her wriggling her own down toned thighs as well.

Percy’s all ready to go through the ‘you ready’ ‘yes’ ‘you sure?’ motions, but Annabeth is moving away from him, and as pretty as the stretch of her back is as she leans over the side of the bed, it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to his lust crazed brain. Of course, that’s when she comes up with a condom, and Percy’s not sure whether to choke over the fact that he’d almost forgotten (okay, totally forgotten), or the fact that she apparently just carries protection around with her all the time.

Actually, it shouldn’t be that surprising. This is Annabeth, she’s always prepared. She pushes him back up to his knees, dragging his hands to her waist as she kisses him again. Her own hands are exploring, dancing over his chest, his stomach, his hips, and then he really has to focus on staying where he is because one hand is fisting his cock in long, slow, smooth motions.

“Anna – Annabeth,” he pants, his fingers digging into her waist a little. She’s not close enough. “Annabeth, this is about to be over before we get started, if you know I – _ah_ – if you know what I mean.”

She chuckles at him, low and a little throaty. There’s a tearing sound, a little fumbling and a lot of laughter from the both of them, but then the rubber is on and they’re really, seriously about to do this.

“Ready?” she asks him, and he’s pretty sure that’s supposed to be his line, but here she is lying back and smirking at him for the umpteenth time.

He sets his hand on her thigh, drags it slowly up the side of her body until he’s cupping her face. She almost nuzzles into it, and he thinks his heart stops. “Yeah. Uh – yeah.” _Smooth, Jackson._ “How about you?”

“Waiting for you to move, Seaweed Brain.” The smirk smoothes into a smile and his breath stops alongside his heart, and he’s going to die like this and that’s both totally okay and completely terrible because he’s not inside her yet. It’s that thought that galvanises him into action.

The head of his cock presses to her entrance and she whimpers softly. Her hands move all over his both, is face, his shoulders his chest, his back, her hips circling softly as he eases into her as gently as he can manage. A groan tears itself from the back of his throat at the incredible feeling of tightness, of _Annabeth_ wrapped around him. There’s a twinge in his chest when he realises that a part of this has to hurt for her, that she’s built in a way that means this causes her pain, and he actually stops for a half second.

That’s when Annabeth shakes her head, mussing her curls up further. “Don’t stop,” she whispers, a pleading edge to her voice, and that’s when her legs wrap around his waist and pull him that last little bit into her.

Percy’s completely lost after that. Her legs relax a little bit, allowing him to pull back and thrust inside her again, and a sharp cry leaves her then, a sound that’s undeniably one of pleasure. He curses into her shoulder and they cling to each other as they both start to move in a rhythm that’s awkward and not really even. It seems to be working for them, though, because Annabeth is making small, whimpering noises of need into his shoulder and Percy is alternately cursing and whispering endearments to her as the tide of pleasure rises in him inexorably, threatening to rip him apart.

He comes first. It’s pretty much inevitable, for all that he tries hard not to. Still, his orgasm seems to set something off in Annabeth, the way he groans and shudders against her sending her into almost a frenzy. One of her hands slides between them as her hips buck, but he has the presence of mind to tug it away, using his fingers instead to bring her off. She comes silently, shaking, every muscle in her body held rigid. _Okay_ , Percy thinks as he watches her face. _Now I can die happy. Forget all that other stuff._

Finally his arms give out underneath him, and he just barely manages to shift, pulling out before he crushes her. “I won’t break,” she mumbles at him, moaning a little as he withdraws from him, but he’d prefer not to test that theory.

The condom is disposed of, and he twitches a couple of time in the process, still oversensitive. And then Annabeth curls into him, her legs tangling with his and her hands pressed sort of to his bare chest. It takes Percy a couple of seconds to figure out where to put his, but eventually he settles for one around her waist, the other on the pillow over her head.

Slowly, their breathing evens out and the adrenalin rush dissipates to a point where Percy just feels absolutely content. Like nothing could ever be more perfect than this moment. He couldn’t say how long they lie there, a couple of minutes or the rest of the day. At some point Annabeth shifts her head, looking up at him.

“Not bad, Seaweed Brain,” is all she says. Her elbow nudges his rib a little, tickling.

 He grins down at her. “Yeah?”

 Annabeth makes a happy sounding noise, tucking in closer to him. “Yeah.”

Percy’s ego grows ten sizes. He presses a kiss to her forehead. “You didn’t do so bad yourself, Wise Girl.”

That gets a laugh and a shift of her arm, popping out from between them so she can drape it over his hip. Her fingers dance aimlessly over his skin, making him shiver. “Well, duh.”

He squints down at her. “You researched this, didn’t you.”

Her smirk is just a little too self-satisfied for Percy’s liking. “Of course. And if you’re lucky, I might just test out some of my new found knowledge on you.”

She’s talking nerd at him, so of course his throat goes just the slightest bit dry. “I’ve always been lucky.”


End file.
